


When Boredom Reaps Reward

by zephyrEclipse



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Marco being a flirty lil shit, Probably ooc, jealous jean, still don't know how to write Jean-Eren interactions, this is my first SnK fic, tsundere baby, wrote it back in like October and never posted it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrEclipse/pseuds/zephyrEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In which mishaps and odd luck reap rewards Jean never knew he wanted (or needed).</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~~~<br/>Originally inspired by a lil comic I saw on tumblr about the 104th main kiddos playing spin the bottle and Jean landed on Marco and was like "I didn't rig it that way! How do you even rig Spin the Bottle???"</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Boredom Reaps Reward

**Author's Note:**

> Fffff I don't even know what the hell kind of a title that is. The file is temporarily named "Attack on Night Boredom" in my emails to myself. 
> 
> I wrote this back in October of last year and never posted it because it always felt like something was off about it. Also, this started as a drabble and ended up being 5000+ words... aha... ahahaha...
> 
> If I can find the comic it was inspired by again (or if someone knows which one I'm talking about and can link me), I'll link it here.
> 
> Also, let's just pretend that their bunks actually are the way that I wrote them, mmkay?

“Come on, Jean. It’s just a little harmless fun,” Marco beckoned, smiling with mirthful brown eyes.

The game itself was Armin and Christa’s idea. The restless trainees had nowhere to go and nothing else to do between dinner and sleep, so they had to come up with creative ways to amuse themselves. Most of the other trainees were asleep but there remained a group of those who were awake that were gathered around in a circle.

No, Jean would not consider it his type of fun. Definitely not.

Mikasa and Annie had chosen not to play, though they had received an offer. Ymir and Christa quietly snuck into the boys’ barracks after dinner. Sasha had been the last one to arrive, as she was the one to bring the empty wine bottle from the rubbish of rations storage.

“Thanks but no thanks,” Jean replied. “You all have fun with your pathetic little kiddie games.” He made a point to roll over in his cot to face away from the rest. He heard a derisive comment from Eren. It was annoying but Jean decided he wouldn’t let the other boy have the pleasure of knowing it. Freckles appeared in his vision as Marco popped up right in front of him suddenly.

“Just one round, Jean? You know you’re not going to be able to sleep anyway, so you might as well,” Marco reasoned with a knowing smile. Jean stared deadpan, to which the dark-haired boy merely grinned up to his eyes and nodded in the direction of the rest of the group. The other teen sighed before he grudgingly stood and joined the group.

“Fine. Watching might be funny. Everyone knows that only people who can’t get date on their own merit play this game.”

“So, it’s perfect for you then,” Eren sneered.

"I'd rather choose who I swap spit with, thank you,” Jean spat, with a scowl.

He added to Marco, in a whisper as they sat, “I swear, if I land on Yeager… you’re going to owe me so hard, I’ll— ”

The freckled boy laughed at his threat, “I get it, I get it.”

“Ah, so you decided to join after all, Jean?” Armin said genially. “Great! Now we can get started.” He took the bottle from Sasha and placed it in the middle of the circle. With a quick flick of the wrist, he spun the bottle and the game began.

Jean started yawning after the first few spins, when all anyone would do is kiss each other on the cheek. The closest it got to something interesting was when Ymir aimed a little too close to Christa’s mouth for it to be an accident but Jean still thought it uninteresting. Of course, the bottle never landed on him; just his luck to be stuck in a game where he couldn’t do anything.

“Your turn, Marco!” Someone said. Jean opened one eye to peek at his friend, who was now giving the bottle a turn. Sasha was laughing along with everyone else until the bottle landed on her and Marco walked over. She blushed a little bit when he smiled charmingly at her and then rubbed the tips of their noses together.  


Connie looked at him confused. “How was that a kiss?”

“It’s called a bunny kiss,” Marco explained. He had a sheepish look on his face that was as innocent as the words he spoke. “Or at least that’s what my mom always called it.”

Connie still looked unsure so the brunet boy turned to Sasha again and gave her a quick kiss on her nose, which made her giggle. It made Jean scoff and look away. So, the game continued.

A few spins later it was Marco again and when he spun the bottle, it landed on Christa. The two stood up and Marco bowed low, taking her hand with a gentlemanly, “My lady.”

Christa giggled and made the motion of a curtsy in response. Marco gave her a kiss on the hand and a playful wink. When Marco sat down, Jean quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Never knew you were such a ladies’ man, Marco.”

The brunet just made a noncommittal humming noise and an easy shrug. “I’m just playing along with the game. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

Jean stared at him without any particular expression. There was something nagging at him, something that made him not only dislike that Marco had thus far only landed on the girls, but also the fact that he was being exceptionally flirtier with them than usual. He didn’t know why. The problem with Marco is that he’s such a genial and honest guy, you’d think you’d be able to read him like a book when, in reality, he’s more like a safe: locked up tight, combination unknown.  


_Maybe I should stop thinking about it so much. This is stupid._ And with that, he shrugged his shoulders and finally answered: “…Guess not.”

“Hey, it finally landed on you, Jean.”

That caught his attention. “Wait, what?” Jean looked down at the bottle that was indeed pointing to him and then looked around the circle. All eyes darted between Jean and Armin, who, Jean figured, was the one who had just gone. The mousy blond boy looked nervous and embarrassed but walked over before Jean even stood up. It looked like he was thinking for a second, studying Jean’s face, before he gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and ran back to his seat. Jean was somewhat dumbfounded but didn’t have time to stay that way before an impatient Eren barked, “So are you gonna spin or what?”

Jean made a face at him, and snapped “Oh don’t be jealous, Yeager.” He spun the bottle as hard as he could. It flew to the side a little but kept going and going before slowing to a stop. It looked like it was about to land on Jean himself. _Yeah that’d be just perfect_ , he thought. _The only time I’ve spun and of course I would land on myself…_

“Looks like you lucked out, Jean,” Marco commented. “You landed on yourself.”

“No, look!” Sasha interrupted, excitedly. Connie and Christa both shushed her and, more quietly, she added, “It looks like it’s pointing at you, Marco. See, it’s just a little to Jean’s left.”

More accurately, the bottle was pointing to the space between Jean’s left knee and Marco’s right knee, but it was just to the left enough that it looked like it could be pointing to Marco’s foot. _If Sasha hadn’t pointed it out…_ Jean glanced at his friend, whose expression was one of surprise. He met Jean’s glance and smiled waveringly. It made Jean uncomfortable but he wanted to know what it was: the emotion he couldn’t pinpoint, between the surprise and composure, which gleamed in his eyes. Marco looked at him as though he was seeing something in him that no one else saw, something the sandy-haired boy doesn’t even see when he looks in the mirror. Jean wondered why he was noticing all these things about his friend now, of all times.

_Like I said. I’m thinking too damn much. I guess I’m just going to have to make this quick._

“Well, damn, Potato Girl is right,” he said breezily. His throat felt dry as he swallowed his pride and leaned over to kiss Marco on the cheek. The other boy laughed lightly, if not a bit uneasily, but then that was it.

Marco spun the bottle again. Jean unconsciously glared into space as the black-haired boy landed on Ymir and still managed to get a wry smile from her with his charming mannerisms. It was something that got under Jean’s skin and he didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why seeing Marco giving away his magnetic smile and kissing those girls in ways that made them giggle—though never on the lips—annoyed him or why that one kiss on Marco’s cheek left Jean’s head buzzing with thoughts and internal conflict.

Just as the light-headed feeling started to fade, Marco leaned over to talk to him.

“Isn’t this fun?” He asked softly. Jean’s eyes flickered around uncomfortably, before he blinked and let out an exaggerated yawn.

“Nah, it’s pretty boring. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

Marco raised his eyebrows and smiled, in a way that Jean thought was too cute for a guy to be able to do. The dark-haired boy nudged him, with an elbow. “You’re shyer about this sort of stuff than I would have imagined.”

His tone was light, almost teasing, but also vaguely contrite. As if he were apologizing for making his friend do something he was really uncomfortable with.

“Tch. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I dunno what you’re talking about. Anyway, I told you: I’m B-O-R-E-D.” He paused after this and then, with a quirked brow, turned the focus on Marco. “Besides, what about you? All of the sudden you’re Mr. Charisma now?”

The other boy tilted his head and shrugged nonchalantly. “Am I? I don’t think I’ve done anything extraordinary. Like I said before, I’m only playing along with the game.” Jean could only grumble in response.

“What? Jean, are you… jealous?” 

“Jealous of who? Stop spewing stupid shit.” The other snapped defensively. Taken aback, Marco looked away, not allowing his friend to see the dejection in his eyes. 

“I… I didn’t mean to offend you... Sorry. I was only teasing…”

 _Damnit, why does he have to have those hurt puppy dog eyes?_ Jean thought to himself. _Now I feel fucking wonderful. Why am I acting like this? It’s just a stupid game, right? I’m not jealous. I’ve got nothing to be jealous of; no one to be jealous of._

 

Marco wasn’t truly flirting with any of the girls. He considered all of them his friends but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to play up the game a little bit. And it amused him that Jean hadn’t been the only one surprised by his new behavior. What Marco, in turn, had been surprised by was that Jean seemed to be bothered by his teasing. In fact, particularly after the last turn he’d had, his friend had seemed unusually tense, even glaring as he was immersed in thought. What the freckled boy couldn’t figure out was to whom his apparent jealousy was directed. _Is he jealous that I’m getting along so well with the girls? Seems normal enough, I suppose. And yet…_ It’s not like he thought his friend was particularly interested in them, though Christa was definitely popular amongst the boys. _I think he was interested in Mikasa awhile back, but it didn’t seem like he was trying hard to pursue her. And anyway, she’s not even here, so that doesn’t make sense._ He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he wanted Jean to be jealous, not of Marco having the girls’ attention, but of the flirting that the girls received from him. _I shouldn’t let my feelings get to my head. As much as I might want it… he sees me only as a friend, I’m sure._ Marco sighed almost inaudibly and leaned back, observing the others as they played the game. He watched Jean’s face, waiting for some sort of clue of what was going on in his head.

His chance came when the next spin landed Christa on Jean. The latter smiled briefly and Christa quickly gave him a kiss on his cheek. He watched, casually but closely, to see what kind of reaction the sandy brunet would have... If anyone should get a reaction, it would be her.

 

Jean furrowed his brow as he leaned forward and robotically spun the bottle, thoroughly confused, and maybe even disappointed in himself. _Okay so I didn’t have the same reaction with Christa… even though she’s cute, friendly, nice, pretty… but why not? I mean, Marco’s a guy so I shouldn’t even be having this conflict. Damnit, going into the army wasn’t supposed to be this complicated! I was just supposed to focus on staying in the top so that I can get into the Military Police. Why did I have to start dealing with feelings for one of my best friends now?_ He didn’t have much time to ponder the answer to his question as the bottle started to slow down.

 

 _Shit, really?_ Jean’s stomach did a swan dive to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. It was certain this time and could feel the heat of rushing blood flood into his cheeks. _Why didn’t I just stay out and watch? No, actually I wanted to go to bed. How did I get sucked into doing this again?_ Because Marco had urged him. Marco, whose ears and nose looked like they were on fire with the red glow of embarrassment, was looking at anything and anyone except for Jean.

 _At least I’m not the only one feeling humiliated. It’s his fault this is happening_ , Jean thought stubbornly. _He wanted me to play._

The others were all staring so Jean shook off his thoughts and decided to just go for it again like the time before. However, Marco turned his head at the last second, as if he was going to say something, so Jean’s quick kiss on the cheek became a quick kiss on the lips. They both pulled away hastily, avoiding eye contact. If Jean had looked at his friend, however, he would have noticed the small grin on his face. Jean, on the other hand, was frowning a little, feeling rather lightheaded. He decided something was very wrong with him, because he couldn’t get his heart rate to slow down. _Shit, I think I—_

Meanwhile, Marco took his turn and laughter erupted as it landed on Jean.

“Wow, that’s three times in a row, Jean! I’m not sure if you’re lucky or unlucky!” Connie exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think you rigged it that way,” Ymir added, smirking.

“Well, I didn’t,” Jean countered eloquently. Her poignant look showed how little she believed him. “I-It’s true. How do you even rig spin the bottle?”

The brunette girl just shrugged flippantly. “You tell me. If it’s such a non-issue, why don’t you just get it over with? It’s just a stupid game.”

Her tone issued a challenge that Jean couldn’t ignore.

 _She’s right..._ he thought, grabbing his friend’s hand to pull them both to their knees. _We just have to get it over with._

He kissed Marco fiercely, pulling forward with both hands, one on the back of his neck and the other gripping his bicep. It was odd but Jean felt his whole body ignite. His nerves were on fire, his head was thrumming, and his hands were clammy but held on all the tighter. Just as Jean decided he could get addicted to the feeling, Marco started to pull away.

Disappointment began to consume his euphoria until Jean opened his eyes. Marco was flushed and breathless. His hands were looped around Jean’s neck and they clutched the back of his shirt, as if holding on for dear life. _This… is definitely not a game anymore_ , Jean mused. _But I don’t think I really give a shit._ Marco was smiling beautifully and he had that smile all to himself.

As Jean’s thoughts raced with his heart, however, awkwardness filled the silence. Mixed reactions came from those playing and observing: whispers, looks of disdain, and expressions of disinterest raced around the seated audience.

The two brunets speedily regained their composure. “What, was that really the most interesting thing you all have seen in your lives?” Jean barked contemptuously, a sneering comment to the stares they’d received. He made a point to leave the circle without any further remarks.

“Ah, perhaps we should call it a night everyone,” Marco said blithely, trying to smooth over the tension left in Jean’s wake. Most were in agreement so the game was officially ended after that with the trainees, one by one, heading to bed. It was an unspoken verdict that the night’s events would remain secret, to keep them out of trouble. Jean went to asleep thinking maybe they could blow the whole thing over… and yet, at the same time… he questioned whether or not he quite wanted to.

 

It was before daybreak when Jean awoke. He sat outside, thinking on the previous night’s events. He admitted to himself that it could have been worse, though he still could probably have reacted better. He was frustrated at himself, and at Marco—though he supposed it wasn’t entirely his friend’s fault. He probably didn’t even know what he was doing to Jean. By the time he headed back inside, breakfast was starting and the stares from those who had seen the previous night’s activity came along with it. He played up his indifference to prevent any further questions. Of course, the one person he was most anxious to see was nowhere to be found in the crowd of cadets.

Later in the day, during training, he did see Marco of course. A brief wave from his friend meant that he saw Jean too. But they never got a chance to talk. The dark-haired boy was always speaking with one girl or another, and unlike last night, he seemed to be back to the Marco that Jean knew: quiet laughter, sheepish smiles, his trademark “nice-guy” personality. No flirtatiousness or coy teasing. Truth be told, the sandy-haired brunet was glad. Jean wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He was confused enough over what had happened as it was. He also wasn’t sure whether or not he really wanted to talk about it. Marco seemed to be doing just fine after all.

Jean wasn’t jealous, of course. There was nothing to be jealous of. And besides, no Marco, no… feelings he wasn’t used to.

 

“Hey, Marco!” A voice called out. The brunet turned around to see Armin walking up to him. 

“Hey, um… It’s not really my place to ask, but is there something going on between you and Jean?” Armin asked, as he caught up with his dark-haired friend. 

“Ah, Armin. How are you?”

The blonde answered with a simple “I’m well,” and looked at Marco with inquiring blue eyes. 

The freckled brunet laughed softly. “No, I don’t believe there is. Why do you ask?”

Both were headed in the direction of the Mess Hall. The dinner bell would soon ring out, bright and clear, to inform the teenagers that the day was over. They walked side-by-side and Armin gazed up as he pondered his answer. “Ah, well it just seemed… I mean, obviously what happened last night was a… very odd and highly improbable… coincidence but uh…” Armin scratched his neck. “I know it’s weird for me to be saying this. Never mind.”

Marco tilted his head quizzically. “No, I don’t mind.”

The blond boy wrung his hands uncertainly. “Well, it’s just that the last time you and Jean kissed… you guys looked… I don’t know, really happy. Both of you.”

“Both of us did?” The brunet hummed with furrowed brows. A small smile reached his lips and he thanked Armin.

“You’re welcome, I suppose… As long as you’re not having a fight or anything. I noticed that you guys didn’t really talk all day. I’d feel terrible if you were, since the game was partly my idea.” 

“Don’t worry. Even if we were fighting, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

 

At dinner, the trainees chatted animatedly as they ate. Jean sat next to Connie, who was excitedly making fun of Instructor Shadis with Sasha, which Jean wasn’t particularly in the mood for. His eyes wandered around the room, never staring at one person or thing for long. Not until his gaze settled on a duo just entering the Mess Hall.

Bright lights and a wall of cacophonous noise welcomed Marco and Armin to dinner. They parted ways at the door; Armin heading to eat with Eren and Mikasa. Marco caught Jean’s eye and waved a hand. The sandy brunet jerked his head to motion his friend over.

Sitting next to Sasha, opposite Jean, Marco greeted the three of them, asking Connie and Sasha what they had been discussing. He chuckled at their enthusiasm but did not say much in the way of conversation. He and Jean exchanged glances that the oblivious two beside them did not catch. Despite hardly talking all that day, things seemed to be back to normal. The scandal that that select group of cadets knew of had become old news and never got around to the grapevine. For this, Jean was grateful.

 

The moon was high in the night sky, a waning disc of silver. Wispy midnight clouds obscured the glittering pinprick stars.

“Jean, are you… awake?” A soft voice whispered.

“Yeah,” the short reply came. Sock-clad feet followed the first voice to the space between their owner’s bunk and the one next to it. A second pair hastily followed suit. The floorboards creaked beneath them, as each boy sat, backs up against the bed-frames, facing one another. Two pairs of long legs stretched parallel to each other, almost touching.

“So…” The sandy-haired boy started, feeling both enveloped by and completely exposed in the darkness. “What’s up?”

Marco coughed and shifted uncomfortably. Jean felt a foot knock against his hip.

“Are you still set on joining the Military Police?” The dark-haired boy ventured to ask.

“Tch, of course. Eren can go join the Scouting Legion, if he wants to die so badly. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to stay alive.”

Marco nodded and seemed to be mulling over his thoughts. “I suppose there’s something right in what he says, though, isn’t there? I mean, if the most skilled trainees didn’t always end up joining the Military Police and living in the interior, maybe the Scouting Legion would have more successful missions. Don’t you think?”  


Jean snorted. It made more sense when he said it than when an incensed and furious Eren did. But then, Marco’s ability to reason and compromise was one of the reasons he was well-liked amongst the trainees. _Okay, maybe he’s right. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to want to be alive and keep it that way. To want to live a better life than the one you have._

The short conversation was ended with Jean’s non-reply so, after a few passing minutes, Marco shuffled over to sit next to his friend. Jean tensed, the adrenaline rush making him light-headed. His eyes readjusted to seeing the warm silhouette next to him. The boy was as closed up as he could be: arms wrapped around his knees, which were pulled up flush to his chest. Neither spoke, but slowly the awkwardness of the silence diminished to a comfortable plateau. Minutes ticked by as they listened to the bumps in the night. The freckled brunet dared to lay his head on his friend’s shoulder. A red-faced Jean sucked in a deep breath and muttered under his breath.

“What’d you say?” Marco asked curiously. The lack of light made his eyes dilate.

“I said it’s not fair. I don’t know why, but I think I—I really like you, Marco. I think all the dumb little things you do are cute —like how you tilt your head when you’re curious about something, like you’re doing right freakin’ now! Your freckles… how you just care so much about everyone… it’s just so… I don’t know how to describe it. You don’t even have to be fucking doing anything, like you smile at me and I become a nervous wreck. I don’t fucking understand it but, yes, I get jealous when you flirt with the girls. I’m jealous of them because I want your attention all to myself. And it’s completely unfair of you to do this to me.”

Jean finished his tirade with a harrumph. Crossing his arms defensively over his chest, he avoided eye contact, as if the furious blush in his face would disappear if he pretended that Marco wasn’t there.

The other boy was speechlessly confused. He outright stared at Jean.

“Don’t make that face. You look like you’re constipated or some shit.”

The crass comment made Marco laugh and the tension between the two dissipated. Jean was still insecure but Marco sat closer as he yawned. This reminded both boys that it was the middle of the night, still a few hours until dawn.

“I’m not a body pillow, you dolt.”

“But you don’t mind all the same.”

“Of course I mind, no one gave you permission to lie on top of me.”

“No, I suppose not,” Marco replied in a disparaging voice. He got up and moved toward his bed. In one quick movement, Jean stood and caught the other’s hand. 

“Hey wait. I spill my guts out to you and all you do is use me as a pillow then get up and leave. I don’t think so.” The sandy-topped brunet growled in frustration.

“Hmm, true… I was right, wasn’t I? You really are shy about this sort of thing, huh?” He teased, earning him another growl. “Well, to be fair, I find it pretty cute. I was telling the truth when I said I was playing around, you know. With the girls, I mean. I wasn’t really flirting with them. They knew that.”

“Tch. Yeah, well, how the hell would I know that? I’m not fucking psychic… What about Armin? You guys walked into dinner together.”

“Are you jealous about him too? He stopped me on my way to Mess Hall so we walked together. He just wanted to make sure we weren’t fighting.”

“Oh…”

“If you could hazard a guess… Why do you think the girls were talking to me so much today?

“I don’t know,” Jean scoffed obstinately.

Marco threaded their fingers together. “They were just telling me that I ought to outright tell you how I feel. Since you weren’t likely to notice or ask on your own.”

“Hey—!”

“I believe Ymir phrased it as saying you are… “A really stupid, clueless moron.” But—” he interrupted Jean one more time before he had a chance to get angry. “I wouldn’t mind it if you were my clueless moron.”

He was bright red and, though Jean couldn’t necessarily see it, he could feel Marco radiating warmth. “I like you too, Jean. I really like you,” Marco finally concluded, letting out a sighing breath. He watched bemusedly as the emotions flickered through Jean’s eyes, while the teen struggled with his words. He was staring right into Marco’s eyes, which were close as they stood with mere centimeters between them.

 _What should I do now?_ Jean panicked internally. _Do I—_

“No pressure anymore. No one’s watching. It’s just us, Jean,” Marco whispered encouragingly. His grip tightened and he leaned forward so that their foreheads touched together.

This made Jean snort. “You look like a Cyclops.”

“Well, so do you,” Marco countered. “Now are you going to kiss me or are you really a clueless idiot?”

“I resent that. Gonna need to get back at Ymir for putting that thought in your head.” He flicked the side of Marco’s temple to accentuate his point.

“You could always just distract me instead. I’ll forget about it and you won’t needlessly get pummeled because of me.”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t win in a fight against Ymir?” 

“Jean… I swear, I—”

Marco didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence as the boy in front of him finally closed the gap between them. Jean’s calloused fingers pulled him forward by his neck, like he did the last time they kissed. Only now there were no others watching, no one to judge them. Slowly, in tandem, his hands slide down to rest around Marco’s waist, while the freckled boy’s hands encircled his neck. 

The boys sat on Jean’s bed for a while, just kissing, completely absorbed in one another. Suddenly, Jean pulled away to let out a wide yawn. Marco pulled him down on to lie on the bed and cuddled next to him with a wispy sigh.

“It’s pretty late, huh?” He spoke against Jean’s throat, enjoying the feeling of the vibration against his lips when the sandy brunet hummed an affirmative.

“We should probably get back to sleep,” he continued, though he didn’t make any motion to return to his own cot. The reply he got was a grunt and the feeling of Jean’s arm snaking around his waist to him tighter. “Don’ wanna.”

Marco chuckled in response and pulled away from where his head was nestled under Jean’s chin in order to look him in the eyes. Ever the responsible one, he said, “I don’t either but we have to.”

“We can just sleep like this,” Jean responded after a pause. He made a face at the pointed look he received from his cuddle partner.

“Don’t make such a grump face, Jean.” Marco leaned forward and gave him another soft, chaste kiss. “You’re much more handsome when you’re smiling…” Jean turned red at his statement which made the other laugh. “Or blushing.”

“Stop it,” Jean said in a harsh whisper.

“Why? It’s only the truth.” Again, Marco was smiling in that way that Jean (admittedly) was starting to love, especially when it was directed solely at him.

“Because… it’s sappy and embarrassing, that’s why.”

The dark-haired boy nodded in concession, but then countered, “Fair enough. Though, I still like saying it. You don’t give yourself enough credit, Jean.”

“Do what you want,” Jean shrugged nonchalantly. They were still cuddled together on his bed, basking in the warmth and comfort of having another person so close. No words passed between them for a while until…

“I am glad you didn’t end up mad at me… you know, for pushing you into that game.”

“…let’s just forget it happened. Probably one of my least favorite nights ever.”

Marco’s gentle frown and downcast eyes stirred Jean to continue. “I mean, in the end it wasn’t all bad. This—” He motioned between the two of them. “—I like… But having to do it in front of everyone…”

His sentence was left unfinished but the implication remained.

“You’re not wrong,” Marco said. “And we’re becoming soldiers anyway. I don’t think, I mean… I know that this,” he copied Jean’s motion. “It can’t…”

It can’t go on forever. It can’t become serious. It can’t—won’t—amount to anything. They both knew it, all the possible endings to that statement. It wasn’t as if they were too naïve to realize it. Whether it would disrupt their training, or if their friends would notice was yet to be seen.

“But really, Jean, I want to sleep.”

“Fine! Jeez, just go to bed then!”

“Ssssh…”

Marco rolled away and Jean, childishly, turned in his cot to face away from him, cocooning himself in his blanket. He squinted when a face popped into his vision.  


“Good night, Jean,” Marco said, leaning forward slightly. The sandy brunet met him halfway for one last kiss before morning.

Both boys lay in their beds contentedly. It was the midst of a time when living in fear was common practice and those who did not were ultimately doomed. But at the very least they could find solace in each other, and for now, that was enough.

“Good night, Marco,” Jean whispered to the shadows. A heavy weight settled into his chest. He told himself it would be okay. They were almost done with training, and soon they’d both be graduating and living in the Interior. But the tight feeling in his chest was one he couldn’t shake. Marco was fast asleep.

 

A few days later, the battle for Trost began.


End file.
